


Leaves You Breathless

by EmpireofSocks (empireofsocks)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Jean-Ymir Brotp, M/M, Marco doesn't understand relationships, Skating, Univerisity, inspired by fanart: kimiooon, jean's an idiot, jeanmarco, marco's a figure skater
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empireofsocks/pseuds/EmpireofSocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's a hopeless high school idiot, constantly third wheeling with his only friends, Connie and Sasha. He's also got a gigantic crush on Mikasa Badass Ackerman, but in a strange twist of events he meets Marco while stalking her at the local ice rink, and falls head over heels. Unfortunately, both of them are total idiots who haven't got a single clue about love- until they find each other. Inspired by the ice skating fanart by Kimiooon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Give, They Take

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic, so I hope it's alright. It was inspired by this AMAZING fanart by kimiooon- you can check that out here- http://kimiooon.tumblr.com/post/76764321389/story-where-jean-meets-marco-for-the-first-time-on  
> Title based on "Save Your Heart" by Mayday Parade. Have fun reading- I'm sorry in advance for any typos, and feel free to leave con crit in the comments!

Chapter One: You Give, They Take

“Absolutely not.” 

Jean shakes his head, running a hand through his messy undercut. There was no way this was going to work. “It’s way too obvious, Sasha.” And anyway, Jean Kirschtein was not about to be found in a ice rink watching figure skating, of all things, like some sissy ass child. Like seriously, guys and ice-dancing do not mix. Nope. He shudders as he remembers Sasha’s last brilliant “let’s get Jean a girlfriend” plan- ballroom dancing. The horrors. It was far too feminine for him, even if it did mean getting to stare at the hottest chick of probably all time for an hour or two. And besides, if she saw him, she’d probably think he was fully gay or something. What kind of straight guy goes and watches ices skating just for fun? Jean’s always known he’s had a thing for both genders- ass is ass- but that doesn’t mean he’s about to go turn into some white boy fashionista. He refuses to be Kurt Hummel. Not that he’s ever even seen Glee, of course.

“Oh come on, Jean.” Sasha whines, twirling her ponytail around her index finger. “It’s not like I don’t have a good excuse. My friend Marco skates there too. Mikasa won’t suspect a thing.”  
Jean huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, because going there to watch some guy in tights skate is even better. Very manly, I’ll probably have to go punch a wall afterwards to feel masculine again.” .

“You and your stupid manliness! Jesus, Jean, you’re best friends with a FEMINIST for God’s sake.” Sasha says, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, figure skating is a guy’s sport too. Stop stereotyping.” Connie nods along with her. Jean thinks he’s been brainwashed by his highly opinionated girlfriend. Whatever. 

Jean scowls. He’s had a crush on Mikasa, this bad-ass girl he met at university, for well over a year. Unfortunately, Mikasa’s brother was…well, a complete and total asshole. And Jean did not mix well with said asshole. They’d gotten into a fight the very first day they had met, what over, neither of them know. All Jean remembers is Mikasa showing up, kicking him in the balls, and then dragging her brother away. Of course, Jean didn’t get beat up because he wasn’t a good fighter- it was because Mikasa’s black hair was mesmerizingly, incomparably, beautiful. Jean hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. It was just so… stunning. Like a pool of- no, a waterfall, of ink. And not that shitty ballpoint pen stuff either- like real calligraphy ink, or something. Sadly, though, most people don’t tend to like you terribly much if you get in fistfights with their brother about every other day. What could he say, Jean just couldn’t handle Jaeger’s stupidly superior attitude. He was such a dickwad. 

Anyway, Sasha and Connie, Jean’s best and pretty much only friends, were determined to set them up. They were always finding ways for Jean to see Mikasa without Eren being there, which was next to never. Mikasa and her brother were practically attached at the hip. In Jean’s opinion, they were the perfect example of “opposites attract”. Mikasa’s cool, practical attitude balanced out her brother’s fiery hotheadedness. At first, Connie and Sasha had tried to find other girls for Jean, knowing Mikasa would never give him a second glance, (i.e. the ballroom dancing incident), but even they eventually gave up. Jean was too deep to rescue. So they had started borderline stalking Mikasa, trying to figure out the best times for Jean to see her, alone. None had yet worked out- either Eren showed his ugly mug, or Mikasa’s other best friend, Armin, was with her. Jean liked Armin well enough- but his presence just made it awkward. But, though he did hate figure skating, Jean did have to admit that this was the one opportunity that ensured no Eren or Armin- they were both sick with the flu, which Sasha had had last week… Jean wasn’t sure whether it was a coincidence, or if Sasha had done something to ensure the both of them caught it. To be honest, Jean didn’t really want to know what Sasha and Connie were capable of. The real question here, though, was Am I willing to give up an afternoon of manliness for Mikasa? Jean sighed, knowing the unfortunate answer. Of course he was.

“Alright, fine.” He says, with his usual scowl. “I’ll come.”

Sasha squeals loudly and pounces onto Connie, hugging him like some kind of octopus. She gets exited so easily, Jean thinks. Connie grins. “Let’s go get you some ass.”

 

The building is pink.  
Jean stares at it for a while, unsure what to make of its strange coloring. Of all the skating rinks in the world, of course the one Mikasa chooses is fucking bright pink. Like, Victoria’s Secret pink. Which Jean totally doesn’t know anything about because he’s never set foot in there. Ever. Jean sighs, allowing himself to be pulled along by Sasha, resisting the urge to cover his face with his mittens. 

“Sasha,” he says, “Why?”

“Is it pink?” Connie interjects. “Ask Hanji. They’re in charge of the, ah, paint job.” 

Sasha grins, winking at Connie. Jean gets the feeling that they’re setting him up to something with this Hanji person. God knows what it is this time. Oh well. Sasha and Connie may be a little odd, but they’re the only people that are willing to put up with Jean’s coarse personality. He tends to dislike people until they give him a reason to like them, which generally is just a huge turnoff. But those two never really seemed to care that he did a perfect impression of a boulder most of the time- they just accepted it, and so life went on.

“HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE TROST SKATING RINK!!” a highly enthusiastic voice shouts as the trio enters the building. As Connie snickers suspiciously, Sasha nudges Jean, saying, “That’s Hanji.” Jean blinks, unsure of what to make of the person barreling toward them, with their glasses askew and hair flying in all directions. 

“Ah, um, hello?” He says when they reach them.

“This is Jean. He was wondering about your rink’s paint job, Hanji.” Connie supplies helpfully. Hanji’s eyes light up, and a maniac grin spreads across their face. 

“The paint job!” They say. “Oh, let me tell you all about it! It’s my little pet project, so to speak. I’m repainting every month to experiment on the stamina of the ice rink’s crew! This month is pink, obviously, you know, for Valentine’s Day. You see, I was awfully conflicted about that. Because pink is just so garish, I thought it might be a factor in increased stress levels of our students, which would be super not good with all their competitions, and my little prodigies must be perfectly read for championships. So, I conducted another study, those are just so much fun, and did surveys and measured stress levels, and of course I had to control diet…”

Jean feels very overwhelmed by the sudden plethora of information being thrown at him. Hanji speaks incredibly fast and goes from topic to topic in the blink of an eye. He attempt to interrupt, to tell Hanji there is somewhere he needs to be. Granted, that somewhere involves Mikasa Ackerman and her glorious hair, but still. Hanji, though, has become oblivious to the world in their blathering, so Jean quietly sneaks off after Connie and Sasha, who had slunk away some time ago. Sneaky little bastards, Jean thinks.

Jean hugs his parka closer around him as he enters the bleachers surrounding the rink. The tip of his nose is already practically frozen off, and he considers pulling up his scarf to cover it, but decides looking like a wimpy child in front of Mikasa would not be the best move. Jean edges over to where Connie and Sasha have made their home base, nestled in with blankets and about fifty different bags of snacks. He whaps Connie on the back of the head as he passes, and gives Sasha’s ponytail a quick but harsh tug. 

“Thanks a lot. You guys are the worst.” Jean quips.

“Oh Jean! You made it out alive!” Sasha cries in mock excitement, at the same time as Connie whips out a sarcastic, “Anytime.”

Jean huffs in annoyance, then turns his gaze towards the ice, looking for one familiar face. It doesn’t take him long to locate the one skater with silk-like, inky locks that swish and coil around her face as she spins. She looks beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. Her red scarf swings as she leaps into the air, her face a mask of concentration and passion. Jean is so entranced, he has to take a moment to remember to close his goddamn jaws. Drooling is never a problem till Mikasa enters the room, or so he has found. He looks back again, watching her fly stunningly across the ice.

Less stunning, perhaps, when she trips and sprawls onto her knees.

Slightly less beautiful, as she promptly vomits something chunky and orange onto the ice.

And maybe not quite as breathtaking when she performs a face plant directly into said vomit.

Suddenly, Jean realizes, her black locks don’t seem quite as inky, drenched in puke as they are.

Blinking, Jean turns back to look at Sasha and Connie, only to see both of their faces turn bright red. They glance at each other and start mumbling, something about “I think it spread…” and “But her flu shot should’ve…” 

Back on the ice, Mikasa is being led off by her disgruntled looking coach, a short, black-haired man who barely comes up to her shoulder. Custodians have already rushed out to the ice and cleaned up the remainders of Mikasa’s lunch. Jean wonders if he is really so shallow as to no longer find someone beautiful just because they tossed some cookies. Huh. He decides to forget about it, figuring that he’ll probably be back in love with Mikasa come Monday. 

Mikasa’s trainer is back on the ice, still wearing the same serious expression. The short man skates across the ice, toward the group of skaters doing drills on the other half of the rink. 

“Marco!” he calls, “You’re up early!”

“Coming, sir!” calls a voice from within the crowd.

Jean lifts his head. That voice, he thinks. I know that voice…

Connie taps Jean’s shoulder, insistent as always.  
“That’s our friend.” He says. “He’s transferring to Maria University for last quarter.” Sasha nods, enthusiastic. 

“Maybe you’ll finally have another friend besides us, Jean.” She jokes. “Oh look, there he is!” she exclaims, pointing toward the rink.

A dark haired boy skates away from the drilling crowd. He’s slender, dressed in all black skating gear, complete with gloves. Jean can’t see him terribly well, but the way he moves is incredibly lithe, almost graceful- even more so than Mikasa. The boy starts skating, swirling figure eights and leaping into spins, sticking each landing perfectly. Jean leans forward, fascinated by his mesmerizing movements. As he practices backwards skating by Jean’s bleachers, Jean notices that this guy’s got freckles, tons of them- everywhere. From his exposed arms, Jean can see clusters of little brown dots all over his skin. But then, he gets to his face. Perfectly balanced features, eyes alight with intense concentration, completed with a mischievous little grin playing at his lips. And in that moment, the only thought in Jean’s mind is,

“Holy shit... He’s fucking hot.”


	2. You're Not the Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Christa & Ymir ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> I finally sat down and got this chapter written! It's not super long, but it's something!

Today is hands down the best day in all of Jean Kirschtein’s miserable existence. 

Like, seriously, what could possibly be better than watching a certain hot piece of ass ice skate in fucking tights (okay, not really but ALMOST)? God bless whoever invented skating pants, Jean thinks. 

Honestly, though, people shouldn’t be allowed to be that hot. Marco just looks so…so…god, Jean doesn’t even know how to describe him. Heavenly, maybe? Like a fucking freckled Jesus. And on top of his looks, this guy can skate like nobody’s business. Jean decided to take back what he said about figure skating being girly around the time Marco launched into his second turn. Damn, he made it looks so fierce. And dangerous. Totally masculine. No one was getting in the way of this majestic athlete, not unless they wanted to get cut up by his blades. 

Jean suddenly regrets never taking skating seriously; he recalls his younger self, scoffing at his mother’s idea to sign him up for skating lessons. Shame he hadn’t know just how hot ice skaters all seemed to be. 

Out on the ice, Marco has glided to a stop, reaching for a purple water bottle sitting beside the rink. Jean’s eyes continue to feast on the sight, and he feels as though it is physically impossible for him to tear his eyes away. 

Jean’s day dreaming is suddenly interrupted by a high-pitched, girly voice squealing “Marco!! I MISSED YOU!” A short, blonde, and frankly adorable (but not as much as Marco) girl was running towards Marco, an expression of pure joy on her face. Macro looked up, grinning faintly, and Jean’s heart quivered in his chest. And then promptly stopped as the girl jumped onto Marco and planted a kiss straight onto his mouth. 

“Christa!” Marco said. “It’s only been a couple days!” 

“Still missed you!” she said sweetly, smiling angelically up at him. 

Jean is stunned. This cannot be happening. This is not how this was supposed to play out. He was supposed to be the one loving Marco, not this darling girl. No! He’d imagined it playing it out like fanfiction, (not that Jean has ever read that shit) with some sort of chance meeting and love at first sight ensuing… like Romeo and Juliet. Which Jean has never read, and thus doesn’t know about the ending. Dork. 

The happy couple across the ice is now whispering to each other, burying their faces in the other’s shoulder. Jean thinks it’s so sweet it’s sick. He feels nauseous.

“What exactly do you think you’re looking at, punk?” A rough voice interjects. Startled, Jean looks up into a pair of hard brown eyes. They belong to a tall girl, with freckles, a ponytail, and an angry scowl.

“N-nothing!” He squeaks. “J-just, uh, admiring- no, no, I was watching, yeah, I was watching the skaters!”

The girl glared up at him, clearly annoyed by both his answer and the fact that he is an unfortunate two inches taller than her.

“Christa isn’t interested in douche nugget creepers like you.” She deadpans.

Connie and Sasha choose this very moment to interject on Jean’s behalf.

“He wasn’t looking at Christa, we promise!” Connie says.

“Yeah, Jean’s totally gay for Marco!” Sasha adds helpfully. “He’s been staring at him all day!”

“I’m not gay, Sasha! I like girls too!” Jean scowls, and then realizes this probably isn’t helping his case.

“C’mon, Ymir, trust us. He’s in the same position as you!” Connie wheedles. 

Ymir grunts. She stares at Jean for a long time, contemplating. Finally, she decides to let his off the hook.

“Whatever.” She intones.

“Do you two know her or something?” Jean whispers to Sasha, amazed at their ability to calm this angry female.

“We have History together. At Maria.” Ymir says. 

“Oh. Right.”

Jean is confused. Why the fuck is this chick so defensive about Christa? Are they friends or something? Being socially inept and stupid as he is, Jean decides to be his usual blunt self and ask her outright.

“So, uh, is there something between you and Christa?” he questions.

Ymir spins around, her glare back in place. 

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering!” Jean cries defensively.

Ymir looks at him again, raising her eyebrows.

“I like you, punk. Very blunt and to the point.”

She turns around, gesturing for Jean to follow her.

“Come with me. I’ll explain.” She says.

Jean follows her, still very confused. Ymir leads him to the coffee shop next door to the skating rink. She walks up to the counter, orders large coffee with a ton of strange flavor shot, then turns around, looks at Jean yet again, and orders a small hot chocolate.

Jean decides this girl is fucking weird.

Ymir grabs Jean by the arm, and steers him toward the table farthest away from both the windows and the door. Jean gets a feeling she doesn’t tend to like people in general, as this table is the farthest away from everyone else in the coffee shop. After they sit down, she looks up at him and says,

“Alright, punk. So you wanna know about Christa and Marco?”

“I have a name, you know.” Jean says indignantly. “It’s Jean. Thanks for asking.”

Ymir blinks at him. “I know.” Is all she says.

Jean sighs, knowing a futile battle when he sees one. “Okay, fine. Tell your fucking story.”

They both scowl in unison.

“No judging me for this, punk. I’m only telling you because I think you might actually understand.” She spits out.

Jean nods curtly. He can’t deny that he’s interested in what this girl has to say.

“I met her here, at this very coffee shop. I used to work here, you see, back when I was a stupid ass freshman who hadn’t realized that coffee shops were for losers. She walked in one day, and blew my world away.” Ymir’s voice is rough. It’s clear that she doesn’t like to talk about these kinds of things very much. Neither does Jean. He begins to think that the two of them are rather similar.

“Anyway,” Ymir continues, “I took her order. Her voice was just as beautiful as the rest of her, or at least I thought it was. I watched her like a fucking stalker the entire time she was in the shop. It felt like love to me, some kind of sad, sappy, coffee-shop love.” She pauses, making a face at her own actions. “God, I’m such a loser.”

“You and me both.” Jean mutters.

“Shut up, punk, I’m trying to tell the god damn story!” Ymir snaps.

“Uh, Ymer?” the barista calls from behind the counter. “And Jeen?”

Ymir and Jean sigh in annoyance. “It’s not that fucking hard!” Ymir exclaims at the same time Jean huffs, “It’s French, you asshole.”

Ymir snorts at him as she gets up to get their coffee. Well, her coffee. 

“The fuck did you get me hot chocolate for?” Jean cries.

“Cause you’re a loser.” Ymir says. “Back to the story.”

Jean is slightly pissed, but for some reason he likes this girl. He’s never met someone that can match him when it comes to sarcasm and blunt comments.

“One day, he came in with her. I was absolutely floored. I’d never considered that this girl might be taken, which was stupid, but it’s the truth. They looked so happy together. Once they started frequenting this place, I quit. I didn’t want any more lovey dovey shit shoved up my ass every day.”

Ymir takes a brooding sip of her coffee. 

“That was last year though. I ran into Christa again one day when I was studying for semester tests in here, and we hit off. Unfortunately, she’s still dating that freckled asshole, but we’re pretty close. She has no idea how I feel about her.”

She finishes her story with a somber sort of tone. 

“Sounds a lot like what happened to me today.” Jean says.

“No duh! Why did you think I was telling you all this?”

Jean shrugs. 

“But you do feel the same way about Marco, don’t you?” Ymir prods.

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Then let’s go introduce you to that idiot. Maybe you can get him off Christa for me.”

Ymir grabs his arm and once again begins steering him away. 

“It’s time for you to learn how to make friends, loser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL ABOARD THE JEAN-YMIR BROTP BANDWAGON. WE ARE DOING THIS.
> 
> Oh, and I pinky-promise these dorks will actually meet each other in Chapter 3.

**Author's Note:**

> asdfjkl stupid jeanmarco is just so damn cutesy, you have no idea how much I squealed while writing this. Next chapter should be up...ah, no idea. Sorry! I'll try to write fast, but you can check up on my progress at my blog- empireofsocks.tumblr.com


End file.
